


No Competition

by h_itoshi



Series: FumaKen Week -18 [3]
Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Band/club au, M/M, Rated for Fuma's hips, This is not really a striptease it's Fuma's rogue performance with a TINY bit less clothes, sassy!shori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 05:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13920567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/pseuds/h_itoshi
Summary: But when Kento finds himself in a weird club downtown the following Friday night with a beer in his hand, watching some girl crawl around on stage in a sparkly bikini to Britney Spears' Toxic, he's starting to second guess placing his trust in Shori's judgement.Prompt: Giving the other a striptease





	No Competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tamamushigami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamamushigami/gifts).



> So I for some dumb reason added striptease into this week's prompts and I don't do very good with that?? But then Guchi's ex-bf (... idek either) suggested I write "tease tease" instead and heeey I wrote Rogue.  
> There will be explicit porn I promise. At least one day. For now, enjoy this.

“You have to come along and see him.” Shori told him during lunch, and Kento just agreed half heartedly, making Shori reach over and poke a chopstick in the arm holding his cell phone.

“You have to! He's great!” Shori insists. “He's exactly what we need!”

“Did you think so yourself or did Sou tell you this because he wanted you to come along to his shady clubs?” Kento asks, looking up from his twitter feed long enough to meet Shori's unimpressed look.

“Kento.” He says sternly, and Kento sighs, dropping his phone on the table and leans back in the chair.

“I just somehow find it hard to believe our new vocalist would be performing in one of Sou's kind of clubs. So sew me.” He says, then crosses his arms and accepts Shori's glare.

“You could at least give him a chance.” Shori snaps, and Kento rolls his eyes because deep down he knows Shori's right. “It's starting to feel like you don't want a new vocalist at all.”

Kento does. Of course he does. Their band just got a great opportunity to play at a festival where there will be scouts from record labels and this could honestly be their only chance. He's just still so pissed off at their previous vocalist deciding he wanted to do something else and quit in order to join some kind of soul band, he can't find any positivity right now.

And now they're in desperate need for a vocalist, someone all of them could get along with and who fits their music, could match Kento's own vocals. He sings, but he only does back up.

“Fine.” He finally groans. “But if this is just some shitty porn performance I swear to god-”

“It's not, chill.” Shori raises his eyebrows in a silencing gesture and Kento decides to trust him. For now.

But when Kento finds himself in a weird club downtown the following Friday night with a beer in his hand, watching some girl crawl around on stage in a sparkly bikini to Britney Spears' Toxic, he's starting to second guess placing his trust in Shori's judgement.

“You can't be serious.” He finally turns to Shori who's shamelessly sipping a cosmopolitan decorated with a pink umbrella next to him, feeling more than a little uncomfortable as the girl on stage looks like she fakes an orgasm.

“Quite serious actually.” Shori mumbles around his straw, attention elsewhere, and Kento's just about to announce he's going home when Shori smiles and waves at someone in the crowd. “There he is. Be nice.”

Kento frowns, not so sure he's capable of being nice right now, and it takes him a couple seconds to find Marius and Sou and the guy they brought along in the crowd.

The first thing Kento notices is obviously his hair. It's light, but he can't tell which colour it is in the dim club light and the red coming from the stage, but it looks almost drenched right now, hanging into his eyes in a way that must be annoying but he seems entirely unbothered by. He's laughing at something Sou said, his teeth perfect and lips plush and Kento wets his own lips, thinking that this guy is hot but there's definitely too much douchebag vibes exuding from him.

He's wearing what looks like an old fashioned night gown, a shirt that goes to his knees but is only buttoned over his stomach and halfway up his chest, paired with a dark bomber jacket covered in so many patches Kento can't count them.

Then the guy looks up, smiling at Shori before his eyes go straight to Kento, looking at him for a long moment, the way he wets his lips before letting his eyes trail down Kento's body obvious enough that Kento raises an eyebrow because _seriously_.

“Hey.” He says, voice low and rich, holding his hand out, and Kento reluctantly uncrosses his arms to reach out and take it, finding the hand in his warm and firm. “Kikuchi Fuma. You're Kento right?”

“Nakajima Kento.” Kento says, emphasizing his last name because they don't even know each other yet, but Fuma just smiles like he finds that amusing.

“Great to meet you.” He says, and he holds Kento's hand for a second too long before letting go. “You're one good looking band aren't you?”

“Compliments won't win Kento over, sorry.” Marius laughs, and Fuma turns to him with a small smile before glancing up at Kento with dark, playful eyes.

“Well. Then maybe my performance will?” He says, looking right at Kento as he speaks, and Kento just shrugs.

“You can try?” He says, and he sees Shori's exasperated eyeroll at the corner of his eyes but he doesn't like this attitude. Like he thinks he's already on top of the world and could charm his way in with anybody.

“I will.” Fuma says, sounding sincere this time, and Kento shifts. “I really like your music. You write most of it right?”

“I do.” He says, still not letting his guard down.

“It's good. I really think there's something unique there.” Fuma says, but then the flirty smirk finds his lips again. “Didn't expect so many heartbreak songs from someone this gorgeous though.”

“Very smooth.” Kento says, voice flat and entirely unimpressed, which only makes Fuma laugh.

“They're beautiful though.” Fuma says, eyes dark and serious again, and Kento frowns because he's not sure what Fuma's talking about anymore, but Fuma just raises an eyebrow like he caught Kento thinking about something bad. “Your heartbreak songs.”

“... Thanks.” Kento finally says as he realizes he's expected to answer, and Fuma smiles, glancing at the stage as there's applauding and the bikini girl smiles and hurries off.

“Looks like I have to go.” He says, sending Kento another smile and long look. “I'll give you all I've got.”

And he turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, half dancing to the new performance beat as he leaves and Kento can only stare.

“Oh wow, excuse me while I get rid off all this tension.” Sou says and reaches out into the air in front of Kento to wave his arms around like he's clearing up smoke.

“You look stupid.” Kento tells him unapologetically, but Sou only snickers.

“How badly do you wanna fuck him on a scale from 1-10? 11?” He asks, and Kento just rolls his eyes and turns his back to him, pretending to watch the couple in spandex suits grinding on each other in some kind of interpretive dance.

“Well. At least you didn't hate him.” Shori says cheerfully next to him and Kento makes a face because Shori knows him too well.

He doesn't like Fuma's attitude, no matter how attractive he might be. But he can't deny he's intrigued to see what he can do on stage.

Kento spends the remaining couple torturing minutes of the electro grinding drinking his beer and trying to look at other things, but then the light dims and people start cheering. Kento's attention is drawn back to the stage, watching two staff members carrying out a porny looking black leather couch with rounded armrests that looks pretty worn.

The backlight turns to a pale purple as smoke blows onto the stage, licking the floor and catching around the pair of legs that cross it. Fuma's walk onto the stage is casual, lazy almost, one sleeve of his bomberjacket hanging halfway down his arm as he smiles and looks up, somehow managing to look straight up at Kento and it sends an involuntary jolt through his body.

But then Fuma turns his back against the audience, showing off the back of his jacket covered in patches and pink words, where Kento can only make out “perfect”.

There's a ticking of a clock starting, and people start screaming, Fuma's fingers moving to urge it on and the female screams rise in pitch, making Kento a little worried about what he's going to witness.

But he's intrigued as the ticking is accompanied by soft electronic piano notes, sounding cool like white sheets in the moonlight and Kento tilts his head to properly listen.

He finds his eyes glued to Fuma as the intro notes play, watches him slowly let his jacket slide from his shoulders, eyelashes long against his cheeks as his expression is soft and it's fucking attractive. There are defnitely other people in here thinking so, the screams almost at the level of boyband concert, except there are defnitely a bunch of horny men in here too that wouldn't attend a boyband concert.

Fuma carelessly throws the jacket over his shoulder, holding it with a finger and slowly, seductively runs his hand through his pink hair as he parts his lips for the first note of the song.

Kento finds his own lips parting along with Fuma's as he sings a line in English, his voice deep, painlaced and so effortless, like he could hit and hold any note without even trying.

He has a feeling Shori's smiling next to him but he can't look away as Fuma slowly saunters over to the couch. He sings about falling and as he walks it's almost half stumbling, like his body is too heavy for his legs, and it's somehow really attractive how his weight shifts, hips smoothly following with his steps and Kento wets his lips.

Fuma sits down on the couch with a beat of the music, leaning against the back rest and carelessly flicks the jacket from his finger, stretching against the leather as he sings filthy lyrics about sleeping with a girl and Kento tries so hard to only focus on his voice.

It proves impossible when Fuma sets a hand on the couch to hold his weight as his hips start rolling, giving a few slow thrusts into the air that couldn't even be interpreted as dancing because Kento can somehow feel what that thrust would feel like, how deep and delicious it would be, and he shifts his weight to relieve som uncomfortable tension.

The verse transcends into a chorus, and Fuma's hips still, his expression turning pained as the lyrics beg the girl to stay, to hurt him if that's what it takes to keep her, and it's beautiful in a way and completely filthy in another, especially as Fuma's fingertips brush his own white collar, trailing down his chest and then clutching a fistful in a burst of emotions before he stands back up.

His dancing is as captivating as his singing, slow, fluid motions that gives a vibe of sex more than it does dance, and Kento's breath catches in his throat as Fuma starts slowly popping the buttons of that long shirt, dragging fingertips along the smooth skin revealed little by little.

Kento is ready for him to tear the garment off, but as the last button slides open under effortless fingers, Fuma withdraws his hand, covers his eyes as he sings the worfd, his head tilting back and letting anyone who pleases ogle his body. The abs visible under flowy fabric, a tease of dark nipples, the skintight, black, ripped jeans and the belt that's not entirely fastened.

Then his hand comes down again, making sultry eyes at the audience as he returns to the couch, sitting down on the armrest as he sings, tilting his head back and running his free hand down his bare chest. A shaky breath slips into the song between lyrics, and that's definitely deliberate, his eyes falling closed and Kento's pretty sure a girl slightly in front of him just slipped her hand down her skirt.

Fuma's eyes slit open again, weight shifting backwards and he gracefully falls back into the couch, bracing one of his boots against the armrest while the other leg hangs free over the edge, and suddenly it doesn't look like he'd fuck a girl anymore. His legs manage to spread a lot considering how tight those pants are, and the bent leg where patches of bare skin is visible through rips in the fabric is feeding Kento's imagination way too much. Even the way Fuma's hair spills against the dark leather is somehow slutty, making Kento want to pull it and have Fuma's voice rise even higher in pitch than it does right now.

Fuma sits up with the chorus, his hair a little messy and his arms slumping into his lap as the pained words come over his lips, the open shirt slipping down his shoulder and it has to be on purpose.

The lights change into a bluer nuance when the song gets a rap vibe for a few lines, and Kento tries to bring his logic back up from the arousal swimming in his body, tries to think that that's good, more qualities he possesses, and not just how fucking hot it is when his voice gets a little lower.

Fuma pushes himself up from the couch, the lighting changing back to purple and more smoke is pumped onto the stage, and Kento isn't even trying to pretend he doesn't want to fuck Fuma senseless by now. Especially when he turns his back to the crowd and lets the shirt slip entirely off one arm, only kept up by the hand that holds the microphone, revealing a smooth back with defined muscles outlined by the light. There's loud screaming at the action and Kento misses a few words in the lyrics as he's distracted by the curve of Fuma's ass in those illegally tight pants.

There's another chorus, and Fuma spins back around, dropping to his knees in one swift motion that makes Kento raise an eyebrow because he's obviously done that before, but it's also beautiful with how the shirt swirls along after him, fluttering to rest on the stage floor.

It stops being beautiful when Fuma's hand shamelessly drags down his bare torso, visibly brushing a nipple before trailing further down, fluttering past the edge of his black underwear showing under the pants waistband. Kento wishes he'd been closer to see better, but he still sees almost too well how Fuma strokes down the inside of his own thigh slowly, hips rolling into his own touch, then fingers claw to scratch on the way back up as another passionate line comes over Fuma's plush lips.

Kento finds himself with a burning desire to run his nails along those thighs as well.

The hand slams against the stage floor then, and Fuma uses it for leverage as he gets up on his knees and more or less humps the floor, hiprolls slow and intense and Kento wants to call them deep because that's what they'd be if there was someone beneath him.

He understands the hairstyle now too, those pink wisps of hair hanging into his eyes makes it look mid sex rather than just any sexy performance.

Fuma sits back up, throwing his head back as he holds a long, high note, definitely nearing the end of the song and Kento's mesmerized by how well his voice holds for that register, but also how flawless his skin is and how there's an unmistakable bulge in Fuma's jeans.

Fuma slides back up into standing almost as effortlessly as he went down, leaning down to scoop the shirt from the floor on his way back to the couch and offering a delicious view of his ass, singing sweet, soft notes that tones down the dirty feeling of it immediately.

He slowly turns right before the couch, draping the shirt back over his shoulders, looking up with a small, flirty smirk that hits Kento right in the stomach. Then Fuma drops down to sit on the couch and the lights go out.

Kento barely hears the cheering, barely sees Fuma's silhouette leave the stage because he's so busy trying to catch his breath, control his blush and will down his erection because he didn't think of any of those things for the past three minutes.

But the stage lights up again, the two men back to carry the couch off the stage and a girl in a pleather cheerleading uniform steps onto it instead.

“So do you want him now?” Shori leans over to ask and Kento jumps, almost having forgotten Shori was even there, and it takes him two embarrassingly long seconds to understand that Shori's question is about the singing.

“Uhm. I'll think about it.” He ends up saying, then has to swallow because his voice is a little thick, and he hears Sou's cackling laugh somewhere behind Shori.

He throws a glare behind him but then turns to look blindly at the stage again, thinking that as long as Fuma is willing to help sort out the... problems he may create, he is definitely a keeper.

 

~*~

 


End file.
